


Dial Tone

by thescroller



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-07-06 03:39:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15877755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thescroller/pseuds/thescroller
Summary: With the Mark of Cain lowering his inhibitions, Dean’s head was a mess. When a simple waitress picks up his other-other cell phone that was left behind after a late night diner run, it leads to a very interesting relationship between two strangers. Could this woman help Dean fight through the Mark or will she just be another one of his victims?





	1. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

“Who the fuck are you?” A gruff voiced asked aggressively on the other end of the line, taking you back completely.

Your immediate reaction was to get defensive. Clutching the phone somewhat angrily, you replied through gritted teeth. “Why should I tell you who the fuck this is?”

There was a moment of silence, making you think that the caller had hung up, but you didn’t hear the dial tone that usually followed. Hearing what sounded like labored breathing, you waited in angry patience for a reply while absently twirling your cleaning rag around the table. For the first time in about a month, you were happy that your boss was on vacation because he would have been having a field day if he saw you on the phone while on the floor.

“Listen,” the voice came through the speaker finally. “I think I left my.. my phone somewhere. Can you just tell me where you found it so I can pick it up?”

“Only if you promise me you aren’t a drug dealer.”

There was another moment of silence. “What?”

“I will tell you where your phone is only if you can promise me you aren’t a drug dealer.”

You weren’t sure why you needed this reassurance, but you knew that it would help you sleep a little better to know it wasn’t your creepy neighborhood drug dealer on the other end. “I… I’m not a drug dealer.”

Chewing your bottom lip, you thought you caught the slightest hint of a chuckle from his tone of voice. Releasing your lip from the clutches of your top teeth, you spoke your next words carefully. “You left in at the The Boot.”

“The Boot? You mean it’s at the dinky little diner we just left?”

You quickly thought through the number of customers that you had dealt with at The Booth tonight, but only a handful stood out. “You just left? I was just waiting on a table with two guys and a bunch of books.”

There was a definite chuckle this time. “Ah, yes. The bunch of books would have been my brother Sam.”

“Oh, you were brothers.”

“Wait,” there was a stall. “You didn’t think.. you didn’t think we were together did you?”

Now you couldn’t help the smile that followed and gave the air a shrug continuing to focus on the absent cleaning of this already clean table in front of you. Squeezing the phone closer to your ear with your shoulder, you shifted some clean silverware back on to the table. “I mean, your brother was lecturing you like someone would to their significant other.”

“God dammit.”

You laughed, standing up and admiring your work for a moment. “So does this mean you will be coming back to pick up your phone or do I get to just use up the battery tonight making crank calls?”

“No, no.” He sighed, giving you a slight insight to the exhaustion in his voice. “I need to have that phone on me.. it’s my.. work phone.”

“Alright, well we are open all night, but I’m only here until two.”

The two of you hung up and you realized that you never got the mystery owner’s name before hanging up. You knew who his brother was and a faint remembrance of what he looked like, but he had spent most of his time at the diner kind of spacing out into the window. Now thinking back on in, they both seemed to be polar opposites of each other.

You spent most of the night catering to the random passersby who were looking for the nearest gas station and the oddball here or there who just needed a cup of coffee during their night shift, which was mainly nurses, police officers and other food service workers. For the first time in a couple weeks, not one drunk wander in during your shift.

Just as two o’clock crept up, you began to feel oddly disappointed with the fact that your non-drug dealing caller still hadn’t come by for his supposedly important “work” phone. Toying with the idea of leaving it in the lost and found, you decided that just about anyone could come through and say they lost a phone and snag this one. It wouldn’t be the first time it happened and the hookers that roamed the surrounding corners could sniff that shit out like it was nothing.

“Hey.”

A sudden gruff voice interrupted your back and forth thought process of what to do with the phone, pulling you into the gaze of a familiar pair of eyes. “Uhm, hey?”

The man before you gave you a side smirk before picking his hand up and running it through his hair haphazardly. “I, uh, I left a phone here. I think it was you I spoke with a couple of hours ago.”

You nodded your head slowly, remembering all too well the cocky smile he had given you just hours ago. “And you are..?”

“Dean.”

“Ah, Dean, what’s your brother’s name?”

“Sam,” he answered raising an eyebrow at you. “Why are you asking me about my brother?”

You shrugged, fishing around in your apron pocket for the cool, sleek box you’d only just become accustomed to lugging around. “I just wanted to make sure you were who you said you were.”

“Got some trust issues there, huh?”

Handing him his phone, you didn’t really answer him. Instead you went about your usually prep for heading back home. Things like making sure you hand your wallet safely tucked about into the backside pocket of your bag and your bus pass already in hand. Once you were sure that you had all your belongings including your own phone, that had the local police on speed dial, did you turn your focus back to the man who went by Dean. “Something like that.”

You shouted a quick goodbye to Steve and swerved around your visitor keeping your attention on the door; you had exactly seven minutes to get out of the diner and on the next bus home.

You had been so focused on getting out of there that you didn’t hear someone fall into step behind you. “Where are you going?”

From the tone of their voice, you didn’t even have to glance over your shoulder to know that Mister Green Eyes was trailing behind you. “Why does it matter?”

“Well,” there was a semi-frustrated sigh that came from behind you, but you literally didn’t even have the time to spare to look and roll your eyes at him. “I just wanted to say thank you for holding on to this, I guess.”

“Not a problem.”

“Wait.”

Now it was your turn to sigh and stop in your tracks. With a slow turn you faced the green eyed, freckled face of a very exhausted looking man, but that didn’t stop the bite that came off your tongue. “What?”

“I.. I just wanted to know your name.”

“Why?”

“Damn woman,” he gave himself a soft chuckle and kicked a small pebble with his boot before shoving his hands in his jeans. “You ask a ton of questions.”

“Maybe I don’t like sharing personal information with a stranger.”

He opened his mouth like he wanted to reply, but you noticed him squint his eyes and lean a little closer to where you were not so patiently standing. “Well, then Y/N,” he started with an all knowing smirk. “You might want to remember that the next time you leave work still wearing your name tag.”

In the same moment that it took you to glance down and groan at your own stupidity, was the same moment that for the first time in basically ever of you working at the diner, did the bus arrive early and speed on by; since you weren’t waiting there per usual.

“Dammit,” you muttered, followed by a slew of other un-lady like words while you ripped off your name tag and shoved it into whatever pocket you had a nearby. “That was the last bus of the night.”

“You take the bus home? At this time of time?”

Dean was wearing a look; one that was probably a cross between confused and impressed. It was a look you got a lot when you told people that you didn’t drive, but what always followed by your explanation was not worth the look of pity. So most times you just went with your standard excuse, “I don’t have a car.”

The leather jacket wearing man rocked back on his feet for a moment before releasing a breath of hot air that was visible in the cool night. “Well, where are you heading?”

Knowing he was probably going to ask you again when you headed inside to try and scrounge up the cash for the overpriced cab ride, you decided to get this part of the conversation out of the way. “I’m going home.”

Your vague and mostly one-word answers were really starting to grate on Dean’s nerves and it was evident in the way that his knuckles were turning white again his fists. But trying to fight through the rage, he took a sobering breath and focused on his next words carefully.

“You’re probably going to say no, but in a pay it forward kind of gesture.. I could give you a ride home.” Your eyes widened at his suggestion and the anxiety ridden butterflies began their assault, which must have been noticeable because Dean quickly threw his unclenched hands up. “Or a local gas station a little bit closer to home.”

It was going to start raining at any minute, you could smell it in the air and you really didn’t want to chance getting sick and having to call out of work for a couple days only to fall behind on bills that you had just caught up on.

Everything inside of you was screaming that this was a bad idea, but comfort was out beating your nerves tonight. “Fine, but only because you’ve assured me that you aren’t a drug dealer.”

“Just tell me which direction to drive in.”

 


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter One**

It was the late, late night shift. The kind of shift that had you counting down the hours until you were able to crawl home and into bed so you could struggle to get to sleep before finding yourself back here again. It was the same old routine for the last couple of years now.

“Y/N, you’ve got company at table three.”

Despite the fact that you were beyond exhausted because this was your fourth late night shift this week in a row, you nodded at the older waitress who went by Betty before heading over to the newly occupied table.

“Good evening gentlemen,” you said it your best perky voice you could manage. “My name is Y/N. What can I get your guys this evening?”

One of the two men had pulled out a laptop and placed it on the table; it looked like the screen was just starting to power up. He brushed some of his dark brown hair away from his eyes before offering you a small smile. “Uh, just a coffee for me.”

“Cream and sugar?”

He shook his head, eyeing the other man across from him with a questionable look creasing the corners of his eyes. “Black, please.”

Nodding your head, you jotted down his order on the notepad that was tucked in the front pocket of your apron. Turning you attention towards the other man, who’s freckled face was facing away from you and towards the window, like he was staring out into the darkness, you asked a similar question. “And for you sir?”

“The same,” his answer was dry as he barely acknowledged your presence.

“Alright,” you put a two next to the coffee that was written down. With a slow breath, you did you best to keep your voice perky and upbeat. “I’ll have those right out for you guys.”

The one with the longer hair gave you a gracious nod as a silent thank you before turning his attention back to the laptop top in front of him. As you walked behind the counter to where an hour old pot of brewed coffee was waiting, you pulled two mugs out from under the cabinet before filling them just shy of the brim.

Betty approached you just as you were about to turn around with the scorching cups liquid in tow. “They look like they will be here awhile,” she stated, eyeing the two boys across the counter suspiciously. “Want me to stick around until closing?”

“Nah, I think I’ll be good.”

Betty looked you over once more before sliding a little piece of paper into your free pocket. “Just shoot me a text when you get home tonight, okay? It will give me some piece of mind.”

You chuckled slightly, slipping by your co-worker. “Yes ma’am.”

Betty offered you a small smile before untying her apron and heading towards where you knew the back entrance of the diner was. Another shake of your hips and you were back in front of these oddly behaving boys; oddly behaving as in if you didn’t know any better you would assume that they were running from the law.

Carefully placing down their coffees, you pulled back out your notepad. “Anything else I can get you boys?”

The longer haired one gave you a somewhat shy smile. “I think that will be all for now.”

“Alright, I’ll be back around in a bit to see if you’ve changed your minds.”

Not really giving them time to reply, and probably not the most professional choice, but you headed back around the counter to get started on prepping some silverware and other things for the opening crew. Despite your best effort to stay focused on what you were doing, you couldn’t help, but zero in on what the two men were so conservatively speaking about.

“Dean,” the longer hair one spoke curtly to the freckled one who had been spacing out the window. “You can’t tell me that you didn’t get a little bit out of hand back there.”

The one named Dean gave the other man a lazy shrug. “Sam, what do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know, dude. Maybe acknowledge the fact that you are letting the mark get to you. Again.”

Dean just looked blankly at the man across from him, stirring his black coffee absently while you watching his tongue peak out from his mouth to trace the curve of his bottom lip. “How do you know it was the fucking mark? What if it was just me, oh I don’t know, defending myself?”

“Because,” Sam sighed, running a hand though his hair. It was taking everything in you to not just abandon the napkins you were wrapping around the various forks and knives and focus in on exactly what the boys were talking about. “Because you are my brother and I like to think that I know you a little better than that.”

This was getting interesting and your mind was starting to wonder what kind of brothers hung around at diners at quarter to midnight with a laptop and various old looking books that looked to be written in different languages. Taking a break from your little project, you decided that now would be the best time to head back over to where the brothers were sitting in silence to see if there was anything else that you could get them tonight.

“How are we doing over here boys?” You asked, keeping your voice upbeat. “Need anything to go with that caffeine?”

Dean’s eyes turned towards you giving a good look at just how bright of green they were. “I think we are good right now, darling.”

The smirk he gave you had your toes curling in your sneakers. “Um, are you sure?”

“Oh, I’m pretty damn sure.”

“Actually,” Sam shifted in his seat like he was trying to get comfortable, while giving a pointed stare at his brother. “I wouldn’t mind one of those yogurt parfaits I saw on the sign out front.”

You nodded at him, scribbling down without looking at your paper – all too aware that those green eyes were still watching you. “Sure thing! We have very berry and banana tonight.”

“Berry sounds good, but could I get the granola on the side.”

“Of course. That will be right out.”

As quickly as your feet would take you, you headed back into the kitchen to give Steve, your cook, the order and to have a moment to calm your hastily beating heart. Something about what had just happened had your head feeling kind of fuzzy, like you drank a little too much and were just starting to recover from the hangover. You were currently just having a hard time pinning down what would have caused such a reaction.

“Y/N, order three is ready,” Steve shouted towards the front where you had perched yourself as you gathered your thoughts.

Shouting back a thanks, you scooped up your table’s order before heading over to where the supposed brothers were sitting. Much to your surprise though, you found the table completely abandoned with some harshly thrown down and crumpled bills in the center.

“What the hell did I just miss?” Now you were convinced you made up the men from what felt like moments ago, but you picked up the cash without hesitation. Money was money these days.

With a slightly frustrated sigh, you cleared the coffee mugs and loose silverware before heading back behind the counter for a sanitizer rag to wipe down the table and chairs. Part of you was upset that the men had left so suddenly because their conversation was unlike anything you had heard before and it certainly would have made this shift a hell of a lot more interesting, but another part of you was happy they were gone because something about them just spelled trouble.

Maybe it was because they wanted their coffee black.

As you were lost in your thoughts, picking apart the bits and pieces of your guests, down to even the language that was sprawled across one of the books you were able to catch a glance at before they took off, you went on auto-pilot cleaning the bar before you. Making sure to pick up the salt and pepper shakers and the napkin holder to wipe under them, you heard the thunk of something falling to the ground.

You bent down carefully, using the table as your support, while you reached into the dark abbess feeling in the general direction you knew something feel towards. Fingertips colliding with something smooth, you picked it up, bringing it towards the surface where you could get a better look at it.

It was a cellphone. Not the usual smartphone that most people had these days, but the kind of one you were pretty sure one of the drug dealers in your apartment complex always kept around his belt.

You felt kind of wrong just staring at it, like it was something too personal for you to be holding, but yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to put it in the lost and found right away either. As you were weighing your options of trying to go through it to see who it belonged to or just doing the responsible thing and leaving it behind the counter for the owner to come and hopefully find – it started to ring in your hands.

The number was blocked, so you just stared at the block in your hands as it vibrated uncontrollably for a full minute. Just as you were about to tuck it in your pocket to put away, did it start to spaz in your grasp again flashing that “unknown” number again.

Your fingers were going against your better judgement on this one. The phone was flipped open before you even had time to process what you were going to say to the person on the other end, but as the seconds ticked by on the small screen in front of you did you bring it up to your ear.

_“Hello?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please leave feedback - it keeps this writer going!


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